


Angie Two Point Oh

by omaroma



Category: Single Parents (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24395515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omaroma/pseuds/omaroma
Summary: Takes place right after season 2 episode 19...and ignores Poppy's breakup for a time. Angie accompanies Will to his high school reunion.
Relationships: Will Cooper/Angie D'Amato
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	Angie Two Point Oh

(This story theoretically takes place towards the end of season 2, after the Will/Angie stuff in “A Night in Camarillo” but before the rest hit with Poppy/Douglas somehow, or maybe just pretending that didn’t happen at all because _why can’t everyone just be happy_?) 

Angie D’Amato was not a patient woman in the best of times, but the person waving the smoke towards the window of her own kitchen was pushing her buttons more than usual. Or maybe that was the mounting anxiety of the whole day taking its toll.

“Only you could somehow both burn and dangerously undercook a batch of brownies!” Poppy shouted over the noise of the smoke detector blaring.

“You watched me the whole time and didn’t say a thing, so technically _we_ burned the brownies!” Angie shot back as she climbed on a dining room chair to reach the batteries from the alarm overhead. “But, sure, blame the hot single one just because it happens to be my house, and my oven, and I did all the mixing and pouring, and forgot to set the timer!”

Graham and Rory came running into the room, the latter looking worried, the former rolling his eyes; this happened often. “Should we be calling the fire department?” Rory yelled out, covering his ears.

“The grown-ups’ve got this!” Angie spat out. “Go back to doing whatever it is you were doing, nothing to see here!”

Rory gave her a pointed look that belied his young age. “Sweetie, you’ve already burned the house down once this year! I can not give Graham another bunker makeover again, I just can’t! Edith isn’t--”

“Rory!” Angie snapped, then pointed towards whatever direction would get the children far, far away from the hot oven and her hotter temper. 

“Mom!” Graham interrupted. “Can’t you get that alarm off?”

“MOMMY’S TRYING!” Angie shouted, nerves frayed just about to her breaking point. She stood on her tiptoes, reached up a little further, and snatched the batteries in one not-so-graceful move. 

A blessed silence filled the air, with Poppy using potholders to waft the smoke towards the window screen. “Sorry, honey,” Angie said, tension deflating as her feet found the ground once again. She sighed heavily “It’s fine, go back to your room and keep playing.” 

The boys returned gladly, Rory only looking back once with narrowed eyes as if to warn Angie that there had better not be any further trouble tonight.

Angie sighed again, casting a forlorn glance towards the steaming goo in the brownie pan before throwing herself down into the chair. “I give up!” she said, throwing her hands into the air. “I officially can’t bake, sew, write poetry, adopt a dog, or think of anything else he’d want from me.”

Poppy opened her mouth, then thought better of it and closed it, her teeth chomping audibly from the effort to stop interfering. “It’ll be fine, Angie,” Poppy reassured her instead, taking the seat next to her. “I’m sure Will isn’t expecting anything for his birthday, anyway. Thirty-eight is not a particularly special year or anything. I’m sure he’ll be happy just hanging with us and Sophie like usual.”

“You don’t get it, Poppy!” Angie retorted, exasperation (or maybe desperation) making her voice travel up an octave. “Every birthday, holiday, and occasionally random occasion, Will has the _perfect_ gift.” She started counting the easy-to-recall ones off on her fingers. “Christmas compilations of my son’s stories? Renting a cabin while hunting down California snow? Throwing me the most epic 30th birthday party ever? Chasing down and mildly assaulting Graham’s dad in a fast food drive through lane while spouting sweet metaphors? Helping me kidnap a goose? And that’s just off the top of my head!” Her gaze dropped a little, the only outward sign of her inward struggle not to reveal too many of her emotions. “I’m just...I’m never going to be able to measure up to any of that. I can’t even bake stupid brownies from a stupid box for my stupid best friend’s stupid birthday.”

“It’s _really_ not a contest,” Poppy shook her head, smiling knowingly, not even offended that Angie had called him her best friend because she knew that look on her friend’s face and the real reasons for it all too well.

Angie refused to consider or confront _that_ look, so she held up her palm towards her friend. It had to be better than the “whatever” hand gesture of her youth, right? “Stop, Pop, m’kay? Just let me wallow for a minute in my smoke-filled kitchen without trying to make everything better.”

“Uh-uh, did you just give me the _hand?”_ Poppy said, more pity than defensiveness in her voice. Then she cocked her head and consciously softened her look. “I’m sure the perfect gift idea will come to you soon. You have time left for your muse to arrive.” Pointing her finger, she added, “Hopefully before May, because May is _not_ looking good for high-strung Aries to take on new projects.”

“His birthday is IN May!” Angie blurted, then half-huffed out a laugh at her own ridiculousness and nodded, letting her shoulders sag. She had just looked back up at Poppy, steeling herself for some version of a deeper confession, when her front door banged open. Will and Sophie were here to pick up the kids for their Saturday night sleepover. 

“So, my life is over!” Will almost yelled theatrically and without preamble. He sniffed the air. “Did you burn brownie goo _again_ , Ange?” he started, then shook his head as though he could shake out all the distractions. “Never mind, we’re doing _my_ thing now.” He slumped into a chair across from the two women. “Soph, go grab the guys and tell them to get their things pronto...but also tell them to take their time, if you know what I mean.”

Sophie’s mouth scrunched up in what Angie could only mentally describe as an adorably tolerant pout, before she shot Angie a look and mouthed, “Tag, you’re it.”

Angie gave her a soft smile of acknowledgement before looking back over at her best friend. “Dude, you said your life was over yesterday.”

“When you found out they discontinued your particular shampoo fragrance,” Poppy helpfully added. 

“And the day before that,” Angie continued.

“When Sophie got an A- and you told us that her fifteen-year plan was shot,” Poppy clarified.

“And on Monday, when you stubbed your toe and chipped off a little bit of the nail.”

“Ooh, I did not know about that one. I’ll give that to you, Will, breaking a nail is literally a pain.” 

“Thank you for the reminders of the legitimately awful week I’ve had, ladies, but _seriously_ , now I have an _actual_ problem, okay?” Will speedily redirected them. “My twentieth high school reunion is upon us, and the planning committee voted to do it _over my birthday weekend._ Yeah! So now, I have to tell Sophie that I can’t spend my birthday with her, _and_ I have to go to this giant party all alone as a lame, single, part-time weatherman.” The breakup with Tracy had long since lost its sting, but the pit-of-the-stomach single-shaming himself hadn’t quite stopped yet.

“If you think you’ll hate it that much, why don’t you just skip it?” Poppy said, earning her a stern look from both Will and Angie. “What? Do people even go to reunions these days? You have nothing to talk about with any of the people you’ve actually kept in touch with if you’re on social media, and who wants to drive back to the trauma of being a teenager for all the people you _haven’t_ bothered to keep in touch with?”

“ _Skip it?”_ Will asked, aghast, as though she had suggested that he murder his firstborn child. “Do you have _any_ idea how much work I put _in_ on said planning committee? It’s not _my_ fault they outvoted me on this one!” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “It’s not easy being a visionary.”

“Plus, Will is one of the few lovable weirdos who actually enjoyed high school in spite of his overwhelming lameness and lack of friends,” Angie added defensively.

Will hesitated. “Yeah…” he replied, a little unsure if that was a compliment or not but deciding to take any support he could in the moment.

It was Poppy’s turn to throw her own hands up in the air. “Fine, Will, no problem. We can just watch the kids and then celebrate when you get back!”

“And miss hearing my little girl sing to me on my birthday?” he barely choked out. “Thereby missing out on memories I can never get back before she grows up and moves away to college and I lose my very will to live?”

“You could Facetime,” Poppy said. 

“An electronic version of my daughter is NOT my daughter!” Will spit out quickly. “What else you got?”

“I thought they were going to have it in July,” Angie said. “You were so looking forward to finding some summer lovin’, the possible promotion, and getting a sweet tan before you had to yuck it up with all those schmucks.”

“It _was,”_ Will was unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “But, no, dumb Bill Parker with his dumb, beautiful, free-for-us hotel said that this was the only weekend all summer that the venue wasn’t booked with other things, so _here we are_!” He threw his face down onto his arms, which were splayed out on the tabletop, and muttered, “I’m going to die alone.”

His misery left Angie and Poppy to have a silent conversation with head tilts and eyebrows above his view, Poppy urging something and Angie stoutly refusing.

“Hey, here’s a crazy idea,” Poppy boldly forged ahead in her usual take-charge manner, ignoring the panicked face and shaking head trying to warn her off without words. “Why don’t you take Angie?”

Will’s head popped up. “What?”

“Yeah, _what?_ ” Angie repeated.

“That way you can take the kids _with_ you and spend time with Sophie when you’re not doing reunion-y stuff. Angie can babysit when you’re busy, you all can hang out otherwise...you’ll have way more fun that way, _and_ you’ll have a smokin’ hot pretend-girlfriend to show off.” At this Angie nodded, as though Poppy was stating the obvious. “You’ve done the pretend boyfriend-girlfriend thing before--”

“You _know_ about that?”

“Please,” Poppy said. “Let’s not waste our time with ridiculous questions, I was Angie’s best friend for _years_ before you came along, of _course_ I know all about that.” She ignored the sheepish look on their faces. “Just go together--you’ve got your backstory already figured out. If you have something where you need to take her along, the kids are old enough they can do fine on their own for a couple of hours if you’re all in the same hotel at the end of the day. What could go wrong?” 

Angie and Will intentionally avoided each other’s gaze.

“Unless...there’s a reason you two don’t want to get a hotel suite together and spend some quality time with the kids while taking a stroll down Will’s memory lane…”

“Nope! No reason!” they both protested in unison.

Angie cracked first, rolling her eyes and sighing loudly. “Ugh, fine,” she declared, her eyes flitting to Will’s, “but consider this your only birthday present from me! I’m done looking for another one!”

Will’s face turned up into a soft smile. “You were going to get me an actual present this year?”

Angie’s lips twitched, but she refused to smile back. Maybe her eyes betrayed her, though. But _inside,_ where Angie’s deepest feelings lurked, she had only nerves and bad juju swimming around in her gut. Despite what Poppy said, a _lot_ could go wrong. And, knowing their luck, it probably would.

* * *

The hour-long drive to the hotel had been comfortable and uneventful. Will’s Honda was packed with far more luggage than most would’ve brought along for a weekend trip, and, of course, most of it was his. The hotel suite was tasteful enough, though Angie heard Bill Parker’s name muttered under Will’s breath almost as a curse on more than one occasion as they were given the grand tour. The kids excitedly picked out which of the two bedrooms in the suite they each wanted, parents complying, and they spent their first night in pajamas watching a movie and eating pizza in the common area between the two rooms. Will had to run to a few meetings the next day, with a promise to relieve Angie that evening after she accompanied him to a gathering first. He made a few jokes about the stained sweatpants she was wearing, warned her as he rushed out the door to be prepared and in character for some serious mingling at the cocktail party that night, gave Sophie a kiss on the top of her bedhead, and was gone.

So whatever he had been expecting to see when he opened the hotel door at 8pm, it wasn’t this. 

Was this _Angie_ standing before him? _His_ Angie? (Well, not _his_ Angie per se, he corrected himself, but, like, as opposed to some other random Angie that wasn’t his best friend?) She hadn’t ever worn her hair like _that_ before, all tousled and voluminous and screaming of Hollywood glamor, had she? Her makeup gave her face and eyes a glow beyond the one he already saw every day in them, but the real show-stopper was the _dress._ Tight enough to show off her slim form, short enough to make her legs look long despite her petite stature, high-necked but backless, with sheer, billowy sleeves that were cinched at the wrist, shimmering with something smaller than sequins...the perfect “little black dress” that looked like it was tailor-made just for her.

If it weren’t for the Twinkie cream still hanging off the corner of her mouth he wouldn’t have believed his own eyes that this was actually his best friend at all. Thankful for that little familiar detail to bring him back from his thoughts, he tried to pull his eyes up to meet her own inquisitive look.

Or slightly smug look, maybe. She was definitely onto him and enjoying this a little too much.

 _Speak, man,_ Will told himself, and he opened his mouth to do so, but no words came to him and he clamped his mouth shut again, which only made her eyebrows shoot up in amusement.

“I know. I look pretty hot, right?” she said without shame. 

“Yeah--yes, you do--look pretty hot--or, pretty...well, just pretty--well, not _just_ pretty, I mean, you look _very..._ pretty…I’m gonna shut up now, An-ge-la...” he trailed off before he could dig himself in any deeper. But then she laughed nervously, and he laughed too, and she smiled, and he smiled back, and he reached over to wipe the cream from her lip, and she let him, and for a beat they just stood there in silence, unsure of what to say or do next.

Thankfully Sophie and Graham butted in and broke up the awkward moment before Will could do something supremely stupid, like kiss Angie right then and there. “Mom, can Sophie and I stay up past our bedtime?” 

“Sure,” Angie said at the same time that Will said, “No way!” They exchanged a look that held an entire conversation before Will caved.

“Can we rent another movie to watch tonight?” Sophie asked.

“Sure, sweetie, and the popcorn is already made.”

“What about dinner?” she asked.

Will’s gaze turned on Angie, the corners of his mouth turning up as though he had expected this as he got out his wallet. “You didn’t feed them dinner?” he asked mildly.

Angie gestured with her hands up and down her entire body. “You want a hot fake girlfriend, you gotta make sacrifices, Cooper! This level of attractiveness isn’t just expensive, it’s time-consuming!”

Will bit his tongue and gave Sophie $30 in bills. “You can order whatever you want within that budget, and just have them leave it at the front desk--Kyle will bring it up for you. I tipped him very well to keep an eye out for you guys tonight.”

“Ugh, you and Kyle should get a room already,” Angie sighed. 

“I’m not a baby, Dad,” Sophie said through gritted teeth.

Will ignored them both.

“If you need us, just call my cell--we’ll just be in the hotel ballroom and can be back here in five minutes, less if I run up the stairs really, really fast.”

Sophie smiled as she walked toward the phone to order her takeout. “Okay, thanks, Dad!” she called out over her shoulder. But of course Will followed her into the common room.

“And not just for emergencies, okay? You can call me anytime, for anything, and I’ll be right back up here. To tuck you in, or help you guys find Mr. Roar if he goes missing, or to fast-forward through any scary parts of the movie, or--”

Angie grabbed Will’s arm and dragged him toward the front door. “Bye, Graham!” she interrupted Will’s monologue. “Don’t die and stuff!”

“Bye, Mom!” Graham said, not even sparing her a look as he used the remote control to find the movie he wanted.

Watching their kids be so independent (for their age) made them both pause in the doorway. Angie’s hand was still around Will’s forearm, but he twisted around to offer his arm in a more gallant way to steer her towards their exit before they launched into a whole thing about their kids growing up before their very eyes right now. “M’lady,” he said, using the same accent they joked around with when watching _Joust!_ If he had expected her to hesitate shyly, he was in for yet another surprise. Her smile widened, and she looped her arm through his without missing a beat, resting her left hand on the upper part of his arm and stepping in close enough that he discovered she didn’t just _look_ amazing, but also _smelled_ amazing. 

At his questioning look, she shrugged, “What?” she asked innocently, in a voice that wasn’t quite her own. “I’m getting into character! You never know who you’ll run into in the hallway, or on the elevator! My swooning is a little rusty, but I’ll get it back, don’t worry!”

Will remembered the obnoxiously awkward things Angie tended to say when she was “swooning” (especially with Colin, the honkhead!), and he placed his free hand over hers. “Well, how about we just keep it more like at my parents’ anniversary party, okay?”

Angie almost seemed disappointed. “Bro, Anniversary-Party-Angie was an _okay_ fake girlfriend, but we were still finding our footing, y’know? Working out the backstory, getting comfortable lying in front of your parents. If you are wanting to really stick it to all your high school buddies--”

“I’m not,” Will corrected her (they’d been through this a thousand times!).

“Okay, fine, but if you want to _impress_ people tonight, and really sell your success to everyone, you need Angie 2.0 to blow their minds, or knock their socks off, or whatever!”

“You do know this is just a ninety-minute-long cocktail party, right, Ange?” Will tried to bring her down to earth again, but squeezed her hand to show the appreciation he couldn’t articulate that she was going to all this trouble for _him_.

She smiled without looking at him, but continued. “Angie 2.0 is a little more territorial and, frankly, a little more handsy.”

“I think I can handle that,” Will solemnly replied.

“Oh, I don’t know if you can,” Angie challenged him. “We might have to set up some ground rules or you’ll end up under my spell before the night is over. Angie 2.0 can be a very seductive drug and you’ll need to take her in small but frequent doses, doctor’s orders.” She looked at him with an expression that he couldn’t read, which was extremely unnerving considering he usually read her like an open book. _Was she actually flirting with him? Or just warming up her fake-dating banter and challenging him to a duel of wits?_

Before he could respond, though, the elevator opened, and the woman he saw standing in it forced every other thought from his mind. His whole body stiffened, tense, transported back to his teenage years as her eyes scanned them both, taking in the scene of Angie hanging playfully off his arm. “Devlin?” he managed to choke out with a forced smile.

“Will,” she warmly, contentedly sighed with a completely natural smile of her own. “I was just thinking about you, hoping I would run into you tonight, and here you are!”

Angie’s arm tightened around his as she whispered through her teeth ventriloquist-style just beyond the woman’s earshot, “Devlin?”

“Yeah!” he whispered back in the same style.

“Devlin Bertini?” 

“That’s the one!”

“As in, your high school girlfriend?”

“Yep.”

“The one who you lost your virginity to and then she dumped you at your senior after-prom and broke your heart? _That_ Devlin?” her voice became more agitated and each word was increasingly punctuated with her anger on her friend’s behalf.

“Yes, Angie, now play it cool!” Will was more than a little alarmed at Angie’s apparent rage coming on.

“Oh, hell no. I’m gonna play it _smoking hot!_ ” she whispered back fiercely, before stepping into the elevator with them all.

“Hi, I’m Angie,” she said in that voice again, extending her arm to shake Devlin’s hand before quickly wrapping it back around Will’s arm protectively. 

“Devlin,” came the comfortable reply, but the woman’s eyes were completely on Will, while his eyes darted quite _uncomfortably_ between Angie, Devlin, and the elevator buttons.

Angie pressed the “G” and took the moment of distraction to size up the woman. Of course Devlin was beautiful--lovely, confident, successful women were inexplicably the only kind that Will Cooper attracted. And even as she thought it she knew that was unfair; Will was the literal best, truly one-of-a-kind, and somehow wormed his way into even the coldest of hearts, and she should know. But, in person, Devlin wasn’t just stunning in a high school beauty queen kind of way like Tracy had been. She was movie-star-gorgeous, with an easy confidence that resembled Mia (Will’s ex-wife) minus all the self-importance. Sure, Angie could easily take her in a fight, but...a twinge of jealousy and a moment of self-doubt was all she had time to feel before the conversation turned her way. She clung to Will a little more than necessary ( _it’s all part of the act, she told herself)_ , wriggling under his arm until she could lay her head on his chest and wrap her arms around his waist. She felt him sigh a little (whether out of relief, nervousness, or some other emotion Angie couldn’t tell), but he returned the embrace so at least he was playing along. “I’ve heard so much about you, Devlin,” Angie said.

The woman’s gaze dropped for a moment, and she seemed uncertain, but she recovered quickly. “I like your shoes,” she offered.

“Oh my god, you weren’t joking, it really is a thing!” Will whispered excitedly to Angie, which made her giggle. Then he turned to Devlin. “So, Devlin. I haven’t heard from you in quite a while! What have you been up to in the last decade or so?”

Giving a modest shrug, Devlin told them, “Mostly just trying to keep my nonprofit afloat.”

Seeing Angie’s quirked eyebrow, Will explained, “Devlin’s little brother died of SUDEP, or Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy, when we were all in high school, so she started a foundation in his name.” He turned to Devlin. “I hear you’re doing pretty well, actually! Hardly ‘keeping it afloat.’ Didn’t you get invited to speak in Washington a few years back?”

“I did,” she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear but looking brightly back at him. “How on earth did _you_ hear about that, though?”

Will shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I read a few pediatric health journals. Caught a few articles about you over the years. Might have even bragged about ‘knowing you when’ a few times to some of my daughters’ doctors.”

“Ah, how is Sophie doing?” Devlin asked. Apparently she had kept tabs on him in the last decade as well. Concern crossed her face. “Wait, she isn’t--”

“No!” He cut her off, anticipating her questions. “No, she’s super healthy. Sorry if that was misleading. She’s great. She and Angie’s son, Graham, are upstairs in our suite watching a movie as we speak, actually.”

Relief crossed Devlin’s face. “Good. I’m glad to hear it,” she smiled at Will a little too longingly for Angie’s taste. A beat of silence came over everyone. _How slow was this elevator, anyway?_

It was impossible to feel anything but sympathy and admiration, as well as envious and a little deflated for reasons she wouldn’t examine, and Angie suddenly felt very out of place. She started unconsciously to pull away from Will, but apparently he wasn’t about to let go of her role for the evening. He tightened his grip around her and pulled her back to him, almost possessively, as if challenging her, _I dare you to pull away again and see what happens. That_ was unexpected, and a little bit of a turn-on. _Right. Super-hot handsy girlfriend,_ she reminded herself as the elevator doors finally opened and they all stepped into the lobby. _Get it together, D’Amato._

They checked in and grabbed the obligatory name tags. Next to the table was a display, showcasing some trophies from 2000, a Y2K poster, and the senior photos of the entire reunion committee. Devlin was immediately whisked away by a small group of women (likely former cheerleaders, she mused), leaving Angie to glance over the assorted mementos. She quickly was able to spot Will’s photo.

“You had frosted tips? Oh man, I am _loving_ this night already!” she teased quietly, sneaking her phone out of her clutch to snap a picture and already planning a hundred ways to use it against him.

“Ha ha,” he dryly said, steering her away from the display and purposely choosing not to engage in that discussion. “C’mon, let’s go sign up for some karaoke.”

“Karaoke?” Angie repeated, more excitedly than she meant to. 

“Duh!” he replied. “It’s going to start soon and go until the time capsule opening, so if we want the good songs we’ll have to act fast.”

“Got it,” she happily complied. “Wait, time capsule? Really? Can’t wait to see _that_ pile of garbage.”

“For your information,” Will said rather testily, “I was also on that committee--”

“Of course you were--”

“--and I happen to remember that it’s mostly our yearbook, a digital camera that only reads floppy disks, a Twinkie because we really wanted to see if it would actually last twenty years like the rumors say, and a highly edited VHS of various people and moments from our senior year.”

“Highly edited by you,” Angie stated as a matter of fact, because of course he would have. An idea came to her. “Wait, does that mean you get to wear a hard hat and dig up stuff? If so, I want in!”

“No,” Will said, shoulders sagging, “since our high school was actually about 30 minutes from here and we are in a hotel ballroom, there’s not going to be any digging up of anything. Stupid Bill Parker got to do that already. But I _do_ get to push the VHS into the VCR, so...that’s exciting.”

Angie rolled her eyes. “You mean I don’t get to throw in random notes and stuff just to confuse people, _and_ I don’t get to wear a hard hat?” Then her eyes lit up with a brilliant idea. “What if we go find Bill Parker’s car and fill it with crap just to kill time? Oooh, or, OR, we could hunt down some geese. We’re pros now, and I’m pretty sure I saw some out by that fake pond outside when we were on our tour earlier.” 

He gave her a warning look. “Angie, as much as I would love to tackle another goose with you, especially just to piss Bill Parker off, please try not to make a scene or ruin all the planning I did for tonight just to pull off a prank because you’re bored already. Not to be _that guy,_ but I really just need you to stand there and look pretty.” He cringed a little, hating the words even as they left his mouth.

“You’re no fun,” she said, pouting a little and crossing her arms.

He gave her a pleading look.

“Fine,” she said after seeing his face, throwing her hands in the air for good measure. “I promise, I’ll be good!”

Some karaoke, introductions to people she had no intention of remembering after tonight, and a few small glasses of alcohol later (God bless the open bar!), Angie tried not to be annoyed as Devlin found her way back over to them again.

“They are just about to open the time capsule!” Devlin said. 

* * *

The first few minutes of the slideshow made Angie want to gouge her eyes out with a rusty spoon, but then a flash of frosted tips caught her attention. They apparently caught his attention, too, because she felt him stiffen beside her as they watched a twenty-years-younger couple openly making out on screen while “cutest couple” scrolled by in flashy letters.

“Aw, look at the two of us!” Devlin gushed. 

Will smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “We were such babies then!”

“Adorable, smitten babies, though” Devlin countered.

Angie wasn’t sure she wanted to know what Will thought of that, so she distracted him (and herself) by moving her hand up his chest and then to his chin. “Honey,” she purred, “why don’t you go get us some punch?”

Will readily smiled at her and agreed, though whether it was because of her influence or his willingness to avoid confrontation at all costs she couldn’t tell. The screen transitioned to other superlatives, but Devlin apparently had no intention of leaving yet.

“Isn’t he just the _best_ boyfriend ever?” Devlin sighed, then seemed to catch herself. “I mean, he _was_ for me, anyway, y’know, back in the day. And he seems very... _attentive_ still. Although,” she admitted, “I don’t know if he ever looked at me quite the way he looks at you.”

“How you mean?” Angie asked on impulse, torn between trying to maintain her cover, avoiding sounding overly eager for more details, feigning naivete, and wanting to run for the hills all at once. Her eyes were drawn to his figure at the refreshments table in spite of herself--just checking to make sure he couldn’t hear them, maybe.

Devlin cleared her throat. “I don’t know. We had a really good time back in high school, but we were just kids, y’know? It wasn’t serious. We had an exciting, youthful attraction and all, but...I guess we just didn’t have anything deeper to really connect about back then.”

“I heard you connected plenty,” Angie muttered under her breath, then raised her eyebrows when she realized she’d said it aloud.

Devlin graciously continued with a wry smile, ignoring her comment. “I just meant...we were young and blind and subsisting on hormones and massive quantities of cheap pizza, but we weren’t really friends, like you two clearly are.” Angie looked back up at her, surprised by the woman’s sincerity. “You’ve got the whole package now, a grown-up Will who is more of a complete person and is obviously completely in love with you, eyes wide open. You’re a very lucky woman, Angie D’Amato.”

Angie was thankful that her makeup was thick enough to cover the blush coming on. “Well,” she joked, trying to divert the conversation, “Will’s really the lucky one, to get with all this,” she gestured up and down her whole body awkwardly, then realized how odd and vain it sounded, but couldn’t think of anything to say to make it better. More awkwardness followed for a few beats until Will set down a couple cups of punch in between them. 

“How about a dance, Will? Just one, for old time’s sake?” Devlin turned to Angie. “If that’s okay with you, of course!” she added, almost as an afterthought.

Angie froze for a moment, torn. Give Will a chance to rekindle things with his old flame, or keep up the pretense of being his handsy, jealous girlfriend that, at least in this moment, wasn’t very fun for her anymore? What did Will even want? She looked over her shoulder and up at him, hoping he would lead the way.

He did. Clearing his throat, he reached out and began gently massaging Angie’s neck, which she didn’t even realize she needed. How tense had Devlin made her, anyway? “Actually, I think I’m going to sit this one out,” he said. “I...kinda just want to sit with Angie and talk for a while. She doesn’t really know anyone else here, and I--”

“I get it, no problem,” Devlin quickly accepted. “Maybe another time.”

Will smiled politely. “Maybe.”

Devlin smiled at a group of friends standing across the room. “I think I’m going to go say hi to my student government buddies, but let’s definitely hang out more this weekend, guys,” she said, making a smooth escape.

Will audibly sighed and pulled his hands away from Angie’s shoulders. She pouted, and considered grabbing them and putting them back where they apparently belonged, but thought better of it. “Are you sure you don’t want to go over there?” she asked. 

“Nah,” he said, taking a seat. “I think I need to rest anyway. This cocktail party _has_ to have been going on _way_ longer than an hour, right?”

Now it was Angie’s turn to sigh. “I’m sorry, man. I have been a _lousy_ fake girlfriend tonight, and not even that great of a friend. Not a single shenanigan or high-school-reunion-with-a-fake-girlfriend cliche in sight. I imagined this all going very, very differently.”

“Are you kidding?” Will asked, confused but smiling. “No one else would ever--” he seemed to catch himself about to say something, then change courses. “Angie, you are _incredible._ I didn’t mean I wasn’t having fun with you. I always have fun with you! Our rendition of ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ will _definitely_ be repeated at every karaoke night for years to come, because that was pure gold. And, besides, do you know how many guys have asked me for your number tonight?”

Angie perked up at that. “Oh?”

Will gave her a chastening look. “You’re my pretend girlfriend! I didn’t give it away, obviously! But still, they asked!”

“Of course they did!” she nodded, leaning back to rest one elbow comfortably across the arm of her chair. 

He chuckled a little at her confidence; he couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed a cup of punch to give himself a chance to gather and process his thoughts. “Anyway, they’re going to wrap things up soon with a slideshow, and then we can be on our way.”

“Slideshow?” Angie half-scoffed.

“Hey!” Will protested, almost choking on his punch. “I’ll have you know that this particular slideshow is spectacular, or at least it ought to be, with all the hours and blood, sweat, and tears I put into it! I really think I’ve found my calling. I guarantee you’ll be instantly transported back to the year 2000 again!”

“Ooh, butterfly clips, frosted lip gloss, studded belts, and popcorn shirts,” she said, her attention elsewhere. She felt eyes boring into her, and scanned the room for the source. “Did you set it to any _Linkin Park_ songs, by chance?”

“Weren’t you, like, eleven?” Will countered.

“A very _mature_ eleven,” she conceded, still searching. Bingo. “Dude, don’t look now, but Devlin is _totally_ checking you out. Like, I’m getting deep, love-sick, ‘the one that got away’, puppy-love-pining kind of vibes.”

Will made a visible effort _not_ to look--it was painful to watch, but it made her laugh. Then, suddenly, as if drawn by her laughter, his attention was completely on her face again in an unsettlingly genuine way that was becoming all too common lately. He stood and offered her his hand. “Do you, maybe, want to dance?”

“What about making your move and getting your girl?” she protested (though her heart wasn’t in it, as she was already rising, hand in his as though they’d done it a thousand times before). 

“Who, Devlin?” Will asked, then snorted a laugh. “Angie, for the last time, she is _not_ my girl. She hasn’t been for twenty years.”

A thrill of hope unexpectedly shot up through her, which set off internal alarms of its own. Time to quash those feelings down _hard._ She wrapped her free hand around her elbow to form a barrier. “But she could be! Obviously, she wants to be.” She wrinkled her nose and reluctantly added, “And she does seem pretty perfect.” Almost shyly she forced herself to meet his gaze.

"Meh, perfect is overrated. Look, I know you were hoping for some crazy capers tonight for Angie 2.0 to really shine, but sometimes we get to just be two adults having a good time.” He paused, embarrassed by how that sounded after it hit the air and especially at her eyebrow raise. “You know what I mean!” he quickly clarified as a flush crept up his neck. Interesting. “I didn’t come here to repeat history, Angie. That chapter is closed, for good, and I’m _really_ okay with not re-reading it again.” Then, more hesitantly and avoiding her gaze, he added, “I think I’m actually ready to start writing a whole new chapter altogether.”

Angie suddenly remembered that they were still holding hands, so she squeezed it and gestured to the small group of people dancing. They exchanged a smile as he led her to the dance floor without another word, and she knew in that moment all the things he was holding back from saying. She prayed to an unknown deity that he wouldn’t say them here or now, and was pleased that he seemed content with the silence. Too much too fast was too...confusing. Much better when they safely walked the line. It was a little shocking to feel his hand settle against her bare back, and it sent a little shiver up her spine. “Your hands are cold!” she protested to cover her reaction and the accompanying flutter in her chest at his touch. 

One side of his smile quirked upward. “Sorry,” he said, sounding anything but, as he let his thumb rub up and down her skin. It was both soothing and irritatingly irresistible. She distracted herself by sneaking a glance at Devlin again, who, sure enough, was still subtly watching them out of the corner of her eyes. But when she looked back at Will, his eyes were still locked on her. She gave a sly smile.

“Well, high school sweetheart or not, getting back together or not, we can still give her a little taste of regret, right? Angie 2.0 is still on the clock for another twelve minutes.”

His eyes narrowed. “Angie,” he suspiciously asked, “what did you do?”

She rolled her eyes in response, but shifted to wrap her arms around his neck. “Nothing, dude! I promised I would be good tonight, and I have been!”

“Oh,” he accepted, shoulders dropping in relief and pulling her closer so he could wrap his arms around her waist. “Okay, then, what did you have in mind?”

“Well…” she looked away, as if not seeing his face could make it less embarrassing as she started to run her fingers through his hair. She wasn’t sure if it was coming off sexy to any onlookers, or if she was overdoing it a bit. “I did tell you Angie 2.0 was handsy. We might have to make a meal out of the last few dances. Y’know, just for show. Fake me has a reputation to uphold.”

He swallowed hard, considering her offer. “Or,” Will countered, pulling one of her hands away and maneuvering it as he spoke, “we could just enjoy a child-free, shenanigan-free evening.” He didn’t elaborate any fuller, just pulled her near enough that they were dancing cheek to cheek, one hand holding hers out (but not too far), the other holding her close to him. She smiled the way she always did around him when they were alone, and felt him smile against her in return, his beard surprisingly soft against her cheek. Not quite what she had in mind a few seconds ago. But this was somehow better.

* * *

Will felt like they were on the precipice of _something,_ and cursed his overly cautious nature that meant he couldn’t just take the leap then and there. But then she would say or do something, or just look at him in that knowing way, and he wondered if she felt it, too. It was the most agonizing game of emotional chicken, and they had been playing it for at least a year--for _certain_ on that hilltop overlooking the city eating Ratso’s on the hood of his car, and maybe a few more times before or since, most recently on that bed in that stupid B&B in Camarillo. This is what they did, they would banter and lead and goad each other along in all the right ways to make the moment _just right_ , but then he’d swerve at the last minute, _every time,_ never having the courage to look at her and see if she was as disappointed as he was until he knew his face was a mask again.

They walked back up to their hotel suite to check on the kids, who were fast asleep on the couch. He turned to Angie, suit jacket in his arms, unwilling to end the night but knowing he probably needed to before he did something she might regret. “Thanks again for your help, Ange. I had a lot of fun doing...nothing...with you.” 

She smiled back understandingly. “Same. I’m really going to miss Angie 2.0.”

Will cocked his head. “Angie 2.0 _is_ pretty great,” he admitted, “but...I think I prefer the original.”

A look was shared as they remembered the last time they pretended to be dating, and reflected how easy it still was. The dim lights added to the ambiance, and for a brief moment each allowed themselves to consider what it would be like if this were their _normal._

A heavy, intentional sigh from Will broke the spell. “Well, you’re off the clock, so...feel free to ditch us and go do something fun just for yourself. You more than earned it tonight.” His back straightened as he quickly added, “Just remember that you’re still my pretend girlfriend outside of this hotel suite, so maybe don’t go fraternizing with other men. Maybe go out of the hotel altogether, actually.”

Angie steeled herself, seeming to come to some internal decision. She reached across the space for his forearm. “Or…”

“Or?” 

She took a step closer. “Well, I mean, I did go to all this trouble, hate to waste a night when I look _this_ good.” She slipped her arm in his again. “The kids are fine, and would be fine for a little bit longer.” She looked up at him with that vulnerable gaze that meant she would get whatever she asked for because she knew deep inside herself that he couldn’t resist it. “I hear this hotel has a pretty great bar. Buy a girl a drink?”


End file.
